Chapter 4 #2
“And a frying pan, two coffee mugs, and a spoon!” I add, holding up the spoon.
“I’ll wash the spoon too if you can’t manage.” He has a lopsided grin on his face, but it’s still a little patronizing. Why is this guy giving me so much shit?
“I can manage,” I say, indignant. “But, I mean, this is what dishwashers are for.” There. He can’t argue with that.
“I don’t have a dishwasher at my house.”
Wow. No dishwasher and a burst pipe? Where’s he living?
“That’s a shame,” I say. I vaguely recall him being like this when we were kids, though.
Old-fashioned. Capable. The kind of boy who learned how to do things like fix cars and use a hammer.
I think I even saw him with a chainsaw once.
There are two types of guys. The type who can change a flat tire in five minutes, and the type with the auto club on speed dial. Geoff is definitely the latter.
Geoff. Thinking about him compared to Aiden is almost laughable.
Aiden is flannel shirts and ripped jeans.
Geoff is Brooks Brothers and an expensive watch collection.
Honestly, being here makes me question what Geoff and I had in common.
He grew up in a mansion in Greenwich, and its impressive size only added to the hollow and empty feeling it held.
It was nothing like the cozy warmth that the Honeycrisp Orchard Inn exudes.
The only thing Geoff and I connected over outside of our jobs was travel.
Geoff loves to travel, and he taught me to love it too.
We went so many places together. Places I never would have seen without him.
Italy and Vancouver and the Maldives. I didn’t even know what the Maldives were until I met him.
We’d been planning a trip to Bhutan next.
I guess that’s not happening now. Meanwhile, Aiden probably doesn’t know where Bhutan is. The guy has barely left Long Island.
Aiden leans back against the sink, capturing my attention again, and all thoughts of Geoff scatter from my mind.
I can’t help but think of how good Aiden looks with a scruffy jawline.
It’s like he shaves but not daily, and I want to run my fingers over it and—wow. I am being so inappropriate right now.
“You can help with the festival, but I’ve already got a lot of plans,” Aiden announces.
Okay. Forget the scruff. I shake my head, clear my throat, and fold my hands together in front of me. I then place them on the tabletop as if it’s a conference room table in the city. I may be in a robe, but I’m also in a business meeting, technically. “Like what plans?” I ask.
Aiden crosses his arms over his chest, which really makes the width of his shoulders more noticeable. I glance away. It’s the professional thing to do.
“You really plan to stay out here and help with the festival?” he asks. The words are sort of a half whisper, half incredulous question.
I lift my chin. “Yes. Mom called me yesterday and asked me to come and plan the festival, and here I am.”
His dark eyes narrow on me. “You don’t have anything better to do in the city?”
My shoulders draw up. “My schedule is open at the moment,” I begin. But then it hits me. I finally understand. He thinks I’m not invested. That’s why he’s giving me shit. He thinks I won’t stay here and see this through. “And I’m fully committed to this project,” I finish.
I still refuse to look directly at him. Mostly because of the shoulders.
“I just...” His voice trails off.
“What? Say it,” I prod. He might as well let it rip. Let’s go, farmer. Let’s have this out.
“I just figured you weren’t into this place. The inn or the orchard, you know?” He scratches the back of his neck and shrugs a little. “You left and never looked back.”
Wow. Okay. Well, I’m not about to apologize for my life choices, but I do get why he’s wary of me.
If the shoe was on the other foot, I might give him heavy side-eye too, honestly.
“Look, I wanted to be an event planner and live in the city,” I say.
“But just because I didn’t choose to stay out here, that doesn’t mean I don’t care. ”
This whole conversation makes me a little sad. Is this what they’ve all thought about me all these years? That I don’t care about this place? About them? I should have visited more. I know. “I’m here to help now,” I say.
Aiden straightens to his full height, shakes his head, and expels his breath. His energy has shifted. I hope it means he’s giving me a chance. “Okay, then. Stop by the work barn when you’re ready this morning, and I’ll show you what I’ve got so far.”
Great. Perfect. Wait... “The work barn?” I’m trying to remember how many barns there are.
He shakes his head again, and the hint of a smile touches his lips. “There’s the livestock barn, the food barn, the hay and apple barn, and the work barn. The work barn is the one in the far back. Past most of the fields.”
“Ah, yes, the work barn,” I say, nodding as if I know precisely what he means.
I don’t remember us calling the farthest barn the work barn, but I’m not about to admit it to him.
He may be a one-third owner of the orchard now, but I’m a part of this business too.
At least, I am for the next two weeks. And I’m not backing down.
Aiden makes quick work of cleaning the other dishes, including the frying pan and my spoon, before grabbing an apple-themed dish towel and drying everything and then putting it all back in the cabinets.
I wrinkle my nose. I cannot recall ever seeing Geoff wash a dish.
Not even at his mom’s house for Thanksgiving.
Ugh. No more thinking about Geoff.
Or Aiden’s shoulders, which still looked good as he washed dishes, if you’re wondering.
“I’m just gonna go get dressed,” I say, pointing toward the bathroom. “Unless you need...”
“Nope. All yours,” he replies, giving me a wink that does something funny to my middle. A wide grin spreads across his face. “Roomie.”